


Try Not To Think (or don't)

by triplefish213



Series: Sep Heap Angst Fics [1]
Category: Septimus Heap - Angie Sage
Genre: Gen, It's not actually abt them this is an angst fic make no mistake, it's just they're the only 2 named characters in it, its like 12 23am so im not too concerned abt editing, theres a lot of characters who are just mentioned as well but ehhhh effort, words go brrrr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triplefish213/pseuds/triplefish213
Summary: Because he knew he was leaving Marcellus to five hundred years alone under the Castle. Because when he went home, Nicko didn’t. Because of the looks that Marcia gave him, when she thought he couldn’t see, that let him know just how scared she’d been. Because of a million reasons, small and big, and because he couldn’t get the thought out of his head that this was somehow just another dream.
Relationships: Septimus Heap & Marcellus Pye
Series: Sep Heap Angst Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038514
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Try Not To Think (or don't)

Septimus had been hoping, and also trying not to hope, that being stuck in the past wouldn’t be so bad. He’d kept hoping, even when Marcellus ordered some of his scribes to grab him, and lock him in a room. He’d kept hoping when he discovered the guard at the door. He’d even kept hoping when Marcellus declared him his new apprentice, when he’d eaten his apprentice supper because there had been nothing else.

He hadn’t slept the first night, alone in the room with nothing but a bed and a candle, slowly burning down to nothing. He’d opened and shut his eyes over and over again, half-convinced that when he opened them he’d be home. Or maybe that Marcia would be there. He’d hoped she would be, every single day, but then a week had passed, then a month, then five, and his hope faded bit by bit. 

He hadn’t cried either. Not until a month had passed and it kicked in that no one was coming, not now and probably not ever. He barely made a sound, alone in the room that was slowly becoming his. He couldn’t let anyone know how scared he was. Or how angry. His tears were half rage, half terror, and it took every bit of restraint he had not to charge out of the room and find someone to yell at. He didn’t. It wouldn’t help, he knew that much from his first few days there.

It wasn’t that bad, really. Marcellus wasn’t an awful person, if you ignored the kidnapping. And the locking him in a room. For more than a week. And one of those wasn’t  _ really  _ him, just him from the future. Knowing that didn’t stop it from hurting though, and sometimes he’d find himself aching with loneliness, hands shaking as he measured things, ink making splotches when he took notes. So he tried not to think about it. He tried not to think at all.

He dreamed often. Sometimes they were bad dreams, about the glass, about the Castle in his Time in ruins, because he was gone. About Jenna and Marcia and Nicko and his parents and Aunt Zelda and 409, about all of them dead because he wasn’t there to help. Sometimes they were good dreams, or better, at least. Dreams about being home and happy, about everything being okay again. About learning magyk, sleeping in his own bed at the top of the wizard tower, or about going out on a sunny day without a pang of longing in his heart. He always woke up lonelier than before, when he had those dreams.

The day he saw Jenna at the feast was simultaneously one of the worst and best days in all his time in the past. It was the best for all the reasons anyone would expect, because he could go home, and all his good dreams could be real. It was the best because he could let himself hope for real, instead of in small moments alone in the parts of the Castle that never changed. 

And yet it was also one of the worst days, because he knew he was leaving Marcellus to five hundred years alone under the Castle. Because when he went home, Nicko didn’t. Because of the looks that Marcia gave him, when she thought he couldn’t see, that let him know just how scared she’d been. Because of a million reasons, small and big, and because he couldn’t get the thought out of his head that this was somehow just another dream. Making the cure for the sicknesse just felt like going through the motions, half awake, half asleep. 

The ache of loneliness didn’t leave for months. Being back felt almost as isolating as being in the past, because no one understood. No one knew how scary it was that it had only been two days, when for him it had been months. No one could. He was okay though. Eventually. 

**Author's Note:**

> He rlly went through some shit in the past huh. Anyway head empty I nearly couldn't write this. Title is a work in progress but let's be real I'm too lazy to change it


End file.
